


Cowboys and Duct Tape

by Tanista



Series: Domestic Adventures (aka Mac & Becky AU) [19]
Category: MacGyver (TV 1985), MacGyver (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attics, Childhood Toy, Domestic Adventures, Family, Fixing Broken Objects, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Letters, Mac always wanted to be a cowboy, Mac's childhood, Mac's first use of duct tape, Pre-Episode, Season/Series 06, Short & Sweet, Spring in Minnesota, Uncle-Niece Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanista/pseuds/Tanista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Harry's funeral, MacGyver and Becky discover something special- the first thing Mac ever fixed- in an attic trunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cowboys and Duct Tape

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to How Can Spring Take Heart, set before the Season 6 episode Harry's Will.
> 
> Written for the Writers Anonymous Forum's Broken Object Writing Challenge on fanfiction.net.

\--April, 1990--

The ground was white, the sky grey-white, a wintry landscape greeting her eyes outside the windows of the old farmhouse. The only evidence of the actual season was a tiny bit of green on the trees and the merest tips of crocuses and anemones beginning to emerge through the snow.

Spring in northern Minnesota. Not at all what Becky had been expecting.

 _Snow with below freezing temps in the middle of April. Who would've thought?_ She made her way upstairs, balancing a tray loaded with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies. _I'm so glad Mom had the wisdom to move to the Pacific Northwest. Mac may love it here but I wouldn't want to live in this kind of climate for anything._

The petite young woman set the tray on a nearby hall table, rubbing her hands together for warmth then zipping up her sweatshirt. The furnace was due to turn on soon but she had her doubts. _Jeez, I hate being this cold! I sure hope we get back home to sunny California soon before I develop some serious frostbite. Why Mac likes this weather is way beyond me..._

"Hey, Becky?" MacGyver's voice floated down to her. She looked up to see her uncle smiling down at her from the trap door in the ceiling. "Is the snack ready yet? I'm gettin' hungry."

"Yeah Unc, I got it here. You wanna come down and eat, or should I bring it up?"

"Bring it up. I cleared out some space for us to sit."

"Okay, but I'll need some help." Carrying the tray the young woman approached the folding stairs, taking her time with each step. Once she was high enough Mac was able to reach down and take it from her.

The attic was the typical peaked-roof, bare rafters affair, with windows at each end and a single overhead light bulb the only sources of illumination. The tray was set before one of the windows on top of a flat-topped trunk; two piles of quilts served as cushions against the cold wooden floor.

She glanced around the attic, sipping the hot beverage. "Huh. It's funny, you know. I always thought Harry led a more austere existence. Not much stuff. Who knew he's a pack rat?"

"I did," Mac chuckled as he reached for a cookie. "It's a trait your mom and I come by honestly. Harry and my folks were firm believers in Waste Not, Want Not."

He blinked, looking around. "Don't know yet what I'm gonna do with all this, though. Sell or give away most of it, I guess. But the property itself is another thing. I mean, there's no mortgage being held on the land by the bank or anything. Just the taxes and they're not too bad. Thought I'd hold on to it for a while before deciding what to do."

"Probably a good idea. Just so long as we don't move here until after I graduate. Okay? I'm joking but I tell you Mac, this is not my preferred climate."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly. His gaze fell upon the trunk being used as a table. "Hey, I haven't looked inside this one yet. Wanna help?" They set the tray down on the floor then opened the lid.

"Looks like this is where Harry kept the really valuable stuff. I recognize Mom's jewelry box, couple photo albums, our high school diplomas, birth certificates and--" His eyes widened. "Whoa, wait a minute. What the heck?" Mac reached into the trunk, hastily pushing things out of his way. "I don't believe it. What're you doin' in here?" He pulled out the one thing Becky had least expected him to be excited about.

A doll.

It was apparently male, measuring at a guess 11 inches with brown hair and brown eyes, wearing the traditional garb of a cowboy. It looked to be between 35-40 years old based on the quality of the plastic body and faded fabrics. Evidently _very_ well-loved too, judging by the large quantity of duct tape wound about the body and one arm.

"Oh, man," MacGyver whispered. "I haven't seen you in ages." The expression on his face was, Becky surmised, one usually reserved for some of the more amazing things he'd found on his adventures, like a heretofore undiscovered archaeological site or ancient treasure. But for a 1950's cowboy doll found in his grandfather's attic? That was weird. "I didn't know Harry had kept you all this time." He cradled the doll in his arms. "Thought I'd lost you for good, old buddy."

Becky frowned. Did she actually see _tears_ forming in his eyes? _Definitely_ weird. "You were into dolls, Uncle Mac? I didn't know you were that kind of guy." He threw her a glare. She held up her hands in apology. "Kidding. Sorry. But from what Mom said I gathered sports were much more your thing growing up. I kinda thought you'd show more emotion over an autographed baseball or catcher's mitt."

"Well, yeah. It's true I was always big on sports as a kid; I wasn't really into dolls, just this one. Mom was allergic to dogs, so he was my constant companion for years. I took him on hikes, to hockey practice, the dinner table, watch TV with me, even slept with him." Mac shook his head. "Then I got older and must've forgotten about him, I guess. I do recall one time, though- between the time I was discharged from the Army and went to college, I think- when I was watching a Western on TV and thought about the doll. I went to my room and started looking through my stuff but could never find him. It was like he had disappeared completely; I always wondered what happened."

"Anyway," he mock-glared down at his niece. "Who are you to make fun of my old buddy here, Beck? I know you've still got that stuffed unicorn back home. Allison told me you carried it around for years," Mac teased.

"The stuffed unicorn that _you_ got me for Christmas, Unc. And yeah, you know I loved it. Sheesh, I said I was sorry."

"I'll accept your apology- only if you let me have the last cookie." He smiled slyly and winked as she handed him the plate.

Becky rolled her eyes, then peered into the trunk. "Well, looks like it was kept safe in here, anyway. Hey, there's an envelope here." She reached inside to pull it out. "It's addressed to Bud. Who's he?"

Mac frowned. "You know that's what Harry called me. Hand it over." He held it up to the light, then pulled out the letter, two pages' worth of handwriting."Doesn't look as old as everythin' else in here- it's dated three years ago. He must've written this after coming out to L.A. for my surprise birthday party."

"Read it out loud. With the way that snow's piling up outside we're hardly going anyplace soon, and I'm curious as to how that doll got covered in duct tape." Becky said, joining her uncle as he leaned against the trunk. She laid her head against MacGyver's side as he began to read:

_\--Dear Bud,_

_If you're reading this then I must be dead. Now don't get too worked up over it- I've lived a good life with plenty of extra innings so can't complain. With any luck in the afterlife I'll finally find that perfect fishin' hole and settle down with Celia, your folks, and Allison's family._

_Visiting you and Becky in Los Angeles made me think a lot about when you and Allison were kids. I know I wasn't always the most approachable grandparent back then- heck, I never even wanted you to call me Grandpa, thought it made me feel old. But after Celia and James died I tried my best to do right by the three of you. I'm sure Allison felt I was closer to you than her growing up and she's probably right. My greatest regret is that I never took the bus out west to visit her family in Oregon; from talking with Becky (such a sweetheart, reminds me of Celia) now I wish I'd gotten to know them better._

_Since you found this letter you must've also found the one thing from your childhood you'd never thought to see again. Remember that old Western show on TV? "Cowboy Rick and the Red Range Riders," or something like that. Ran for seven seasons, and you watched it every Monday night without fail. My memory may be fading a bit but I clearly recall how you much you pestered Ellen to get you that Cowboy Rick doll for Christmas one year. She had me drive all the way down to Dayton's Department Store- in a blinding snowstorm two days before, no less- just to wait in the toy section for hours in line to get one. Seeing your eyes light up Christmas Day when you opened the package made the long haul to the Twin Cities and back worth it._

_Because Ellen was allergic to dogs (or claimed to be just so she wouldn't have to clean up after one all the time, even now I'm not sure) Cowboy Rick became your best friend. You carried that doll everywhere with you for years. I can't remember a time when you didn't have it with you._

_One Spring day- I think you must've been six at the time- you were running around the backyard, playing Cowboys and Indians with Allison. Remember that old well we kept boarded up in the backyard? Your folks and I constantly told you two to stay away from there, but I guess in all the excitement you clean forgot. You were standing on top of the well, and before any of us knew it the boards gave way, just enough to let you through. Darn if I didn't feel ten years older watching that happen._

_To our amazement you hadn't fallen completely in. That fool Cowboy Rick doll was spanning the distance between the boards; you were holding on so tightly to it I thought your arms would pop, they were straining so much. We were able to pull you out in time, but one of the doll's arms had stuck out at so odd an angle it popped right out of its socket. I think you were crying more about that than what had just happened to you._

_It was what you did a few hours later that still amazes me. Even at that age you had a quick mind._

_The day before you had helped your dad with a home repair project, wrapping duct tape around a leaky pipe. For the first time ever you saw duct tape being used to fix something, so I guess you naturally thought you could use it on your doll. You used most of the roll in James' toolbox, but you were so proud when you showed it to me. I think it's the first time you ever fixed something on your own, and I know it's not the last._

_Didn't mean to ramble on like this, you know I'm a man of few words. That doll saved your life and then you went and fixed it when it was broken. Eventually, though, you left the doll and other toys of your childhood behind as you grew up, becoming more interested in science, sports and the outdoors. Then one day- not long after you got drafted and sent to Vietnam- I found it in your room on a bookshelf. Cowboy Rick looked so dusty and forlorn, sitting up there among your scientific magazines and discarded experiments, that I decided to relocate the doll here for safekeeping._

_It wasn't until I was looking through this trunk a few days ago that I came across it again, and recalled that day at the well and your later attempt to fix its arm. I decided to write you this letter while it was all fresh in my mind_ _and leave it here, for you to find with the doll after I'm gone._

_I know you believe as I do in never letting something go to waste that may prove useful down the road. So let your old friend here serve as not only a memory of your childhood but also a reminder that anything can be used in the strangest ways to help in the most dire situations. It's a lesson I'm proud to know you have always applied in everything you do, from then 'til now._

_Yes, I may not have always said it out loud but I'm proud of you. I love you- as I did Ellen and Allison- very much. I always will._

_You and Becky take good care of each other._

_Harry--_

Becky wiped away the tears streaming down her cheek. "I miss him."

"Yeah," Mac's voice was a bare whisper as he blinked away his own tears. "So do I." They sat in silence for a long while.

Finally she stared down at the doll in newfound appreciation. "So that was the very first thing that saved your life. You even fixed it with duct tape. You haven't stopped using the tape for that purpose ever since."

"You know, I could never remember where or when I learned about using the stuff." Mac smiled wryly down at the doll. "Guess I know now."

"I think we'd better take the whole trunk with us back to L.A. Including good ol' Cowboy Rick." She patted the doll with a smile. "The first broken object you ever fixed. Your first best friend, too."

"Not my last though, sweetheart," MacGyver replied, wrapping an arm around his niece and kissing her forehead. "Definitely not my last best friend, with you around. Thanks for coming with me, by the way. Would've been real lonely without you."

"My pleasure, Unc," Becky blushed slightly. "I figured you needed a hand, plus I always wanted to see where you and Mom grew up. I do wonder, though, how much longer we're staying here."

"Only until next Monday. Got that appointment with Harry's lawyer then- name of William Newberry- to go over his will, then we can get back to L.A. You've got graduation comin' up in a couple months, after all."

"So I do, Uncle Mac. Let's see what else is in here." They turned back to investigating inside the trunk, wondering what other objects- broken or intact- would spark further memories.

\--The End--


End file.
